"Ace…" I know what he did, and I'm sure it didn't go over well.
"You're more important. When was the last time you called me and sounded like a princess in need of rescuing? No way I'm gonna pass that up."
I groan.Great. The last thing I need is to be indebted to Ace. He'll call in the favor in the form of making me tell some poor girl that he had to rush into surgery and can't take her out on the date he promised her. No need to mention that Ace isn't a surgical oncologist. It'll just be a part of the story he, and by extension,me,will be feeding her.
"Where do you want to meet?" he asks.
"Shoot some hoops?" I suggest.
"For sure, man. Let me stop at home and change. See you in twenty?"
"See you soon." I hang up.
I stop at home too, changing into basketball shorts and shoes, and head back out.
* * *
"Girl troubles?"Ace asks as he approaches.
"You're late," I say, watching him walk up, a plastic bag swinging against his thigh.
He plops down on the bench beside me. "I stopped for some much-needed beverages."
I lean over, peeking into the bag. Two forties of beer knock against one another.
"Forties? What are we, eighteen?" I chuckle, tipping up my head to see my best friend. The sun has finally gone down. Some days I'm grateful for the long summer days, but other days the relentless sun can feel oppressive.
Ace pulls the bottles from the bag. Thecrackof opening the lid fills the air and he hands me one.
“Brother, some days I wish we were eighteen again.”
Yeah, because at eighteen he was sleeping with every girl in a five-mile radius of our dorm room. My eighteenth year was the darkest year of my life and you couldn’t pay me to relive it.
"Probably shouldn't drink these before we play," I warn, but even I don't listen to the warning. Placing the bottle to my lips, I take a sip. It's cool, crisp, refreshing.
"That's why I got the light beer. More like water than beer."
I nod. "True."
Ace takes a long swig and looks at me. "You gonna tell me why you called sounding like someone ran over your dog?"
I make a face. "That's not how I sounded."
"Sure is."
"Stop enjoying it so much."
Ace chuckles. "Cool and calm Dr. Miller? Sorry, no can do. You're just lucky I wasn't recording you, because if I told anybody how you sounded, they'd never believe me. You don't even believe me." He drinks again, and when he's finished, he says, "So, spill it."
My ankle crosses over my knee and I lean against the back of the bench, clenching the muscles in my shoulders until they coil tightly. "She's back."
Ace sits forward so fast a bit of beer sloshes out of his can and onto his fingers. "She? Likeshe?The one who must not be named?"
Yes, my best friend and I liken Autumn Cummings to Voldemort. It was fitting considering she nearly killed me from heartache.
I run two fingers under my chin and nod. Just saying it out loud makes me want a drink. Lucky for me, Ace thought ahead. I take a long pull and swallow.
"To help with her mom?" he asks.
